


Measured steps

by Wilkins0n15



Series: How to build a home [1]
Category: USWNT - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-23 04:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilkins0n15/pseuds/Wilkins0n15
Summary: Christen’s musings on all the events that have lead to now.





	1. Chapter 1

To try and place all the events that have led to this moment is overwhelming. To think of where it began, and how it’s become this could take a life time. A life time already lived with her. It’s all so overwhelming is what Christen thinks. Having lived it was the easy part, all the high highs and so very deep lows. She can’t place why it hits her now, with her sitting on a patio couch surrounded by friends and new acquaintances, but it does. She can’t quite place her finger on it, and is having trouble defining it but she’s happy; overwhelmingly happy.

She attributes it all to the hand that’s on her lower back. The touch soft, the fingers pressed firmly, they flex just slightly calling her attention to her as they’ve done countless times before. She takes a breath, just a pause to collect her-self before she answers. Tobin’s eyes are warm and seem to hold all the answers to questions Christen has never thought to ask. Unwillingly she finds herself smiling, a natural response to everything she does. She smiles, always smiles for her. 

“Do you want another glass?” Her voice is low and soft as the summer breeze.

“I think I’m good for now.” She hums back just as quietly, afraid to speak any louder when she knows that her voice is meant only for her.

“I’ll be right back.” Her fingers move, squeezing her hip before she stands.

Tobin walks to the far table littered with food and drinks, smiles at a guest before making a joke which falters as he begins to laugh before she even finishes the punchline. Christen finds herself trying to memorize everything about her in this moment. She thought today would be heavier feeling, what with every minute planned. Feared all the hopes she’s had for it were too great and impossible to meet, but like all things done with Tobin heath, she was pleasantly surprised.

They had talked for hours, over days and weeks of what the event would look like. They scrutinized the guest list, the venues and restaurants willing to cater. She argued with Megan over who would say what, and what exactly it was they were trying to say. Until Tobin had sighed, her eyes heavy with sleep, and pulled all attention from them.

“All we should be doing is listening. That’s why we started this, to listen to people that want to create something better, right? So let’s do that. Let’s listen, all we need for that is to give them a chance.”

It was after that, when she stood to shuffle off to bed, that everything changed. It went from conference rooms and stages to a patio on a Sunday with everyone laughing and talking about all the ways we could do something for someone else. Like all things Tobin Heath does, it was done quietly but passionately in intimate moments shared among people just meeting. that’s how Christen thinks she’d describe it if anyone ever asks her. How she thinks of them falling in love. That it was quiet but passionate, born from those intimate moments when she got Tobin all to herself.

It’s when they ask her when she knew, when she truly knew that she was in love with her that stumps her. Only because she feels that she has always loved Tobin, always knew it in some way. Still she struggles with finding the right words to say it. She laughs and shies away when Tobin confidentially says, “oh I knew it from the first hand shake. It just took me awhile to find the right time to say it.”

She struggles to remember everything she can about that day. Those kind of details she has always struggled with, instead more prone to find comfort in facts and solid things. She can tell you every stat about every game she has played, which of her teammates started, which of them scored, how many shots she missed and how many minutes she spent on the bench. She can faintly remember the feeling of being frustrated by number 98 from North Carolina when in school. She will even admit she had wanted to hate her, tried so desperately to hate her whenever they played each other.

What she can you tell about that first hand shake is that she was surprised by the way the girl held her hand firm but gently. That her voice was softer than expected and that she held her gaze like she wanted Christen to believe she meant it when she said “good game.” She’ll tell you that she didn’t pay it the attention that she knows now it deserved. That instead she looked away while muttering a return, all her focus on her teammates and the disappointment they shared. Tobin waxes poetic of how she took measured steps to give her time to let everything about that moment sink in. How odd it felt to her that with that hand shake she knew that no matter what, she would know me. 

It’s the way that Tobin is walking now, lazily taking each step closer like she has all the time in the world. A new glass of wine held carelessly in her hand. A smile hidden in the corners of her mouth, that gives the idea of how and when Christen knew. The idea is thick in her throat, a warm pressure in her chest like she’s being crushed in some invisible hug. She wants to tell people that she has always loved Tobin Powell Heath. That she first knew something of it when she was with the Pali blues. Back when they were both just starting out on the idea that maybe, maybe they weren’t that crazy to dream of playing professionally. They had seen each other while signing paperwork at the offices, shared glances and waves but nothing more. 

It was a morning shortly after at a team breakfast when sleep still clouded her mind, and held her nerves at bay. She remembers watching her walk in, barefoot and languid, with a cup of coffee held too carelessly. It had stirred the feeling that Christen wanted to know her, know her in any way that she could. She remembers feeling confused at the feeling, not fully comprehending what it could mean or lead to. She just knew when she looked at her, that she looked like someone she could like enough to know. That instead of feeling obligated or nervous, she felt that this was one of those rare moments in her life where she was just excited, just excited enough to step forward. 

As she went to take another step, someone called her name and attention away, the distraction instead pulling Tobin to her. They first introduced themselves while standing on either side of Kelley O’Hara, on just on this side of waking up. In that moment right before they were fully alert. Neither old enough to know that they should be more aware to the drop of their stomachs, or the soft thud to their sternums. Neither paid enough attention to how their hands held on for a moment longer than needed.

Now, at the age of thirty, just a few months shy of thirty-one, is she old enough to catalogue the way Tobin’s smile seems to slip between her ribs. Now she is old enough to know that moment was when it started for Christen. That’s where she will start when people ask. When they ask her how, ask her when she knew that she would love Tobin Heath. She will tell them that she know the idea of loving her when they met for breakfast at too early an hour for either to be awake.

It’s the in between parts that stump her now, she thinks of too many too fast and finds the words too heavy. But she thinks that if anyone ever asks she can count them slowly, and spend a lifetime trying to explain. She’s always loved Tobin Heath, it just took her awhile to find the right time to tell her.

If she were to keep it simple, keep it to just the big moments that made her stop. The moments that made her take pause and look at her. Then she can explain parts of it, this love she feels. This love she tries to explain that had no nervous beginning or yearning end. There were no sudden stops or starts, or broken hearts. This love, it grew in time and aged with them. But if she keeps it simple, only to the big moments that gave her pause to memorize everything about her, she can explains parts of it.

She fell in love with her as a friend first, over years spent apart more than together. Conversation came easy after that breakfast, the topics light and words careless. They stood on the periphery of each other. Tobin too restless and eager to experience anything she could find. Christen too restless in trying to find how she fit in the world around her. They were restless in a way that friendship came so easily because they found a time to pause when with each other. 

The first big moment she likes to think that she took pause to see her was a quiet one. It was near the end of that summer with the Pali blues, on a Tuesday she remembers for no particular reason. Kelley had been recanting a story of some guy at a bar. Her voice much like her was too loud, too big, so Christen stepped away. She chose to sit on the patio of a house someone rented, someone who doesn’t seem to matter now. What mattered was how quiet it was outside, almost calm enough to ease her mind. 

So she sat alone until the door opened and Tobin stepped out with two coffee cups and a smile that didn’t seem to leave the corner of her lips. She was careful in setting them down in front of Christen. Careful to turn the handle of one so that Christen knew it was meant for her. They didn’t say anything, there was no need to. It was the first big moment Christen decided to see her, with her baby fine hair standing defiantly out of place. The first time Christen felt the urge to trace the lines of her face. 

The second came much like the first in that it was quiet, and once again she somehow found herself alone with Tobin. Their time was coming to an end, and talks of returning to bigger games and bigger things was rampant. It was a time when everything seemed to just be out of reach and Christen found herself falling out of love with the game she built her world around. But if there was one thing Christen has always known about herself, it is that she is determined. So she waited for the team to leave, soundlessly lined up the balls to kick and revelled in the thwacking of her pulse. 

She didn’t notice her at first, too caught up in the motion of muscle memory. Just caught her moving in the corner of her eye as she wound up and let sail one just a little too high. So she paused to catch her breath, took the time to watch her gather the ball and took note of her movement. The confidence of her strides and sinew of her arms as she rolled it back to her feet. They stayed for hours it seemed, repeating the act when the ball sailed just wide or high. They took their time in silence, with Tobin on the periphery, so that Christen could remember to love the game.

“Hey.” She stands just in front of Christen , her heard turned and brow furrowed as if to study her. “What’re you thinking of?”

Christen doesn’t think to sensor her smile, or to stop her hand reaching for Tobin’s. she doesn’t think of the people that don’t know, that stand too close and watch with an intrusive curiosity. She lets herself breathe as she spins the ring on Tobin’s finger. Reminds herself that of all the events that have happened, all the moments that led to now. She has grown in love for this women stood in front of her.

“You.” Christen wants in that moment to always be the reason for Tobin to smile. 

She soaks it in as well as she can as they stare at each with grins too big to contain. She tries to commit to memory exactly what this moment feels like before she loses it to the list of moments she can’t seem to count. She wishes she knew how many times Tobin has whispered, “I love you.” Instead she’ll happily stay lost in the haze of it all.

“I think it’s winding down, we should get one last picture of us before everyone leaves.” Megan calls them to attention, and Christen pauses in her count down of all the things that have built to today.

They stand with arms around each other, smiles wide and the sound of shutters clicking. It’s a blur of names and faces she finds too new to comfortably say. Sings praises of “thank you’s” and “nice to meet you’s.” Finds herself separated from the rest, and watches as people only shift away from the table but no closer to the door. Feels a hand on her arm, and a shy smile on its owner. And she knows what’s coming, feels it in the way they turn to whisper.

“I want to say thank you for inviting me!” A hug to buy time, “I can’t tell you how much I loved it.”

“I wish I could put it all in words but I think I’m too over joyed it went off so well.” She wants to pretend she doesn’t know her name like she does. Wants to stay calm and reserved but finds no energy to do so. “I’m really glad I got to meet you, thank you for coming.”

“Can I ask you,” she blushes with eyes darting to Tobin, “how long have you two been together?”

Christen is great full the question is so easy and laughs out the answer. 

“If you mean Tobin and I, we’ve been together 3 years.” 

“So the rumours are true,” her laugh draws both Tobin and Ashlyn’s attention from across the crowd. “As a fan I feel the urge to pry, to ask how it started, I won’t though. But I will say that if this is what comes from you two now, I can’t wait to see what’s next.”

Christen thinks of all the in-between’s, and her wishes for the future as she sees Tobin move closer. She measures her steps, reminds herself of the beginning, before thinking to say. “You know if you ever ask Tobin, she’ll tell you it started with a handshake.”


	2. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christen is caught with a finger nail between teeth, and thinks its a habit she’s never been able to break.

It’s in the green room of The Today Show that Christen finds her nerves rising like bile in her throat. They take hold of her, causing doubt to enter her mind. She’s grown comfortable in her role on the team, humbled by being asked to stand up for their fight. Yet today she feels 22 years old, attending her first camp, and unsure of how she fits into this world. Her first thought is that she’s in over her head, only pretending she’s grown up enough to do this. Her second thought is to call Tobin, to reach out and ask for something to hold onto, something solid to ground her.

Before she can press the call button her phone dings with a message. The word ‘breathe’ is all it says. But the fact that Tobin has read her mind and thought to send it has her pulse slowing, her mind calming on its own. She lets it be her focus as she counts on a beat of 4, 3, 2 and release. 

When she turns to the room around her, taking note of the pictures on the wall. The colour of the pillows placed haphazardly in an armchair. The sound of Megan taping out a message on her phone, and the chill of the air conditioning, she feels a sense of calm and certainty in what she has to say. She runs through the press release while playing with the prayer beads on the counter. Lost to the task at hand with a sense of duty and strength she never thought she owned.

“You’re biting your nails again.” Megan scolds in a tone meant to comfort. “Are you nervous?”

Caught with her finger between her teeth she smiles before answering.

“I was, I’m okay though. How about you? How’re you feeling?”

“Tired. So goddamn tired of saying the same thing over and over hoping to get a different result. But I guess that’s par for the course with this battle. Do you think we have time for coffee?”

She stands to stretch, hands locked above her head while she waits for Christen to check their call time.

“We’ve got maybe 25 minutes, I’ll see if I can find the p.a.” Megan nods once before turning back to her phone, a slow smile taking over her features. 

Christen peeks her head out of the door, searches the rushing crowd of people for the girl assigned to them. She finds her down the hall, a clipboard clutched to her chest waiting for a break in the crowd to move. The sight of her brings Christen back to her first camp. Back to the beginning of all this, when she was not much older than the girl. 

Christen had near given up hope for a call up, feared her decision to explore Sweden had taken her off the list of prospects. She found that idea freeing, and had instead shifted focus to the idea of falling in love. Not with any one person or at least not to the seriousness of a relationship. no Christen went to explore what it to meant to love a game as much as herself. Before going to Sweden she had lived in the idea that the game defined her, consumed her. It was a crippling idea that she knew nothing of herself outside of it. So on a whim of indecision and with the support of a person she just barley knew, she had said yes to Göteborg FC. 

If she had known then the strength a phone call could give her, she would’ve called Tobin Heath everyday. Shaking the memory from her mind she waves the girl over, watches her dart across the hall. 

“Miss Press do you need something?”

“Christen, please. We’d like some coffees if possible.” The girl looks quickly to the watch on her hand before nodding once and turning on her heel. “Soy milk in both please, if you have it!”

She closes the door after the girl waves in acknowledgement, finds Megan still lost in her phone.

“Coffees on the way, tell sue I say hello.”

“She says hi back,” Megan mutters without looking up. “The lawyers just emailed, I’m too tired to read it all but it seems the federation is already offering dates for the trial.”

“And we haven’t even stepped on stage yet.” Christen returns to her chair, looks over her reflection and breaths on a count of 4,3,2 and release. “At least it’s just this interview, then we can go back to the field for a bit.”

“Are you flying straight to Orlando or back to Utah?” Megan finally sets her phone aside, turns to face her, a tired look set deep into the corners of her eyes.

“Flying out in the morning to Orlando, are you staying the night?” Her phones dings with another text from Tobin, this time of a photo. Christen decides to focus on the present, delay the blush she knows she’d be unable to hide from Megan.

“Yeah I’ve got a lunch with my agent tomorrow, heading out to meet the team right after. Tobin’s flight?”

“A couple hours before ours.” Her hand itches to grab her phone, to see what she could’ve thought important enough to photograph. 

“That doesn’t leave you two much time, are you sure you want to grab dinner with all of us tonight?” It’s a photo of a poorly named nail polish and the last thing Christen was expecting to receive. She tries to swallow the laugh, tries to prevent it turning into a giggle but still Megan raises her eye brow in amusement. “You okay there Press?”

Before she can answer either of them the door bangs open, the girl stumbling in with their coffees held a little too high to be comfortable.

“Miss Press, Miss Rapinoe I’ve got your coffees.” They both pause to reset, breathe in deep before Megan steps into her role of Pinoe, US women’s national team star.

“You sweet angel of a lady, I’ve been dying for a coffee all morning.” And Christen sits amazed at how fast she can turn it on, how easy it seems for her to step into her role. She herself stays back, allows for Megan to pass her coffee over rather than reach for it herself. “Do we have much time to finish them or should we get ready to go?”

“They’re calling a five minute warning now, then we’ll move to final touches and onto the stage.” The buzz of her radio can be heard as just a hum from her ear. “I’ll let you two finish, I’ll be right outside.”

“Oh you don’t have to-“ she shuts the door before Christen can even finish, a look of relief as she does. “I guess it’s time to chug these.”

“Bottoms up.” Megan lifts hers in a faux salute, looking over her phone as she sips.

Christen thinks back to the photo, finger tracing over the hand holding the vibrant blue bottle and allows herself to breathe on a count of 4,3,2 and release. The question of why enters her mind before being replaced by the memory of a different coloured nail polish with an equally dumb name.

And if anyone asks, she’ll tell them it’s just another one of those big moments she’s lost count of with Tobin. A moment when she was 22 and nervous to be in her first camp for the national team. Another big moment in the beginning of her career where she found herself feeling scared. The nerves are similar, both being unfamiliar and overwhelming days in Christen’s life. She finds herself biting her nails now like she had then.

It’s a habit she’s never fully been able to break. She was meant to be working on an introduction speech then, a way to present herself to the team so they could know her better. She was too focused on her nerves to know how to start, and found herself caught with nail between teeth as Tobin walked into the room. They had been friends, no differently than when they had first been teammates on the Pali blues. 

Aside from meeting at coffee shops, sitting on either side of a mutual friend, they never sought each other out to talk. Aside from a phone call Christen made out of indecision and fear that everything she was doing was wrong they never thought to reach out. What Christen remembers most about that day, what she wants to tell anyone that will listen. Is the way Tobin walked in without thought, stopped to stare over the ripped and crumpled papers littering the bed. How she paused to take a breath that she held for a count of 4,3,2 and sighed.

Christen remembers most that she mimicked the action without meaning to. That she breathed in deep, paused for a count of 4,3,2 and released all nerves she’d been battling. She’ll tell you that her voice wavered, thin and uncertain. “I don’t know what to say.”

She’ll tell people that it was one of those big moments when she knew that she could love her. Because Tobin doesn’t care for things like speech’s or interviews. She doesn’t like to stand in front of a crowd, all alone with the expectation to say something big. Tobin likes the quiet moments, the intimate ones where she can learn something about a person she’s just getting to meet again.

“I can paint your nails for you.” 

She was standing in the middle of their beds, looking between the crumpled mess of paper and the scattering of nail polish bottles Christen left on the nightstand. She didn’t wait for an answer, had already made up her mind and reached for a bottle. She held Christen’s gaze, waited for her to say no, before settling in against the headboard. She held her hand out in invitation, held Christen’s hand firmly and gently. Took her time in unscrewing the top and focusing on her task. 

It struck Christen as odd how little had changed in Tobin’s features. Her hair had grown, her baby fines tamed. Her jaw had sharpened, the roundness of youth giving way to her age. A smile still hidden in the corners of her mouth. But all the changes were still very much her, still familiar. It struck her soft against her sternum how determined she was to know the lines of her face. 

“You bite your nails.” She spoke low, like the words were only meant for Christen to hear. The fact they were alone didn’t seem to register to them.

“Nervous habit.” Tobin moved to wet the brush, careful not to tip the bottle over.

“No.” She started anew on a different finger, soft in her strokes. “I just think people think that. That you bite them when you’re nervous.”

If any other person had made the comment, pointed out the flaw. Christen would’ve cowered, would’ve drawn back into herself and think of how she should stop. 

“Why do you think you I bite them?” But because it was Tobin, speaking low and soft. She felt herself curious as to what she thought, what she noticed about her. 

“Oh I don’t know...” She moved onto the next nail, shifting her weight over the papers under her leg. “I think you bite them when you’re thinking.” Christen took another breath at the words, held it for a count of 4,3,2, “ you never seem nervous when I’ve seen you do it, just... focused.” 

If Christen knew then how big that moment was, she would’ve thought to remember the name of the nail polish. Thought to count how long they stared at each other, focused on what ever answer was held in Tobin’s eyes. Instead Christen offered her other hand, practiced what it was she wanted to say. Forgot about the papers she had ripped, crumpled in frustration.

Today, Christen types out a reply over text. “You’re a dork.” Before finishing her coffee as the door to the green room opens. She pauses in mindless thought, counts on a beat of 4,3,2, release and smiles.

“Ready Pinoe?” She finds the smile reflected back, as Megan pockets her phone.

“Game time Press. Let’s fucking go.” 

Today Christen thinks of what she has to say, how important her words are. She thinks of Tobin walking around with languid steps, pausing to pick out nail polish as she waits just on the periphery of a moment so big.


	3. Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christen’s never been very good at holding onto secrets. She finds them too consuming, zapping what energy she has. 
> 
> “Do you think they know?” Her cheeks flush at the tilt of Tobin’s head, eyes give way to stare at them.

It’s in camp, late at night, weeks before the World Cup. They’re surrounded at dinner by people she feels are closer to family than teammates. When Christen thinks she has never been good at holding secrets in. Has always found them too consuming, zapping what energy she has as they run on a loop in her head. She’s never been very good keeping hold of them. Can feel them slipping through her fingers web, like sand not yet wet enough to shape. And you know what they say of sands castles made.

Christen has never been good at hiding away, so when Tobin calls her name, wedges her fingers open, she lets slip a hint at something secret.

“Do you think they know?” Her cheeks flush at the tilt of Tobin’s head, eyes give way to stare at them, Kelley and Emily. Before turning back to her own hand intertwined with Tobin’s, hoping not to give it all away. 

“I don’t think that’s for us to say. But when they find it,” she looks back through lashes thick and eyes bright. “They’ll have us to thank for letting them keep it a secret that they can trace like a timeline only they would know… I have to think they’d be so lucky to know of every moment they fell in love.”

Of every moment they fell in love… how overwhelming a thought that could be. The idea of it, of all the countless moments that can seem too big, the list too long, causes her chest to swell and her heart to skip. But Christen has never been very good at keeping secrets, has always found it easier to bare the truth than hide any of it away. Though she can remember a time, not long enough ago, when secrets seemed to be all she knew.  
She found them stifling and hard to swallow, but she’s thankful for their test, thankful she knew the taste of honeyed chap-stick, aged whiskey and cigarette smoke. 

She’s happy that she learned honey can be too sweet. whiskey is best drunk from an iced glass rather than straight from the bottle. She’s happy she learned that cigarette ash is fragile, that she never really liked the burn. Christen was never good at keeping secrets, but she’s glad to have learned that some secrets aren’t meant for her to keep. She’s so happy to know that Tobin Is someone she never has to keep secrets from.

“I like the words you say Heath.” Christen likes that she has learned her mouth, the softness of her lips and how she tastes like the ocean just warmed enough for comfort. “Who knew you could be so charming?”  
  
“I could give you a list of a few people that knew before you.” Tobin smiles wide and wild while reaching for her glass, “but I can’t promise they would agree with you.”

Her words settle uneasy beneath her ribs, as they reference people, or person, who knew her too intimately for Christen’s liking. She feels foolish for thinking it as Tobin squeezes her hand. Finds herself wishing, not for the first time, that their story was different, that it had happened faster. But she knows it would’ve been different, and not necessarily for the best. She knows that they needed different things then. Knows they were too young, too foolish to have made it last. But still, Christen finds herself wishing, not for the first time, that things had been different then.

“I think I’ll pass on that list.” She tries to smile wider, tries to let the feeling go. Squeezes her hand just a little bit harder, if only to feel the solidity of it.

“Probably for the best, I doubt Kelley would be a good reference.” Her tone is light, no hint of frustration or defence. 

“What’re you saying about me Heath?” She holds on as Tobin turns to her, neglects to pay attention and allows herself to wallow even only for a minute.

These are the moments she wants to forget, the moments she knows nothing about, only knows that they happened in the absence of her. They in turn remind her of all the moments she had with someone she loved in another time. Someone who’s only fault was that she wasn’t Tobin Heath.

Vero was brash and loud and bold. She was everything Christen needed at twenty-three. Fresh off a year where she felt comfortable in her skin, learned about things outside of the game. She was twenty-three and no more than an alternate on the national team, but it felt as if she was finally where she was meant to be. She had shifted cities but clung to Sweden, still revelled in the love of soccer just newly renewed. She was brave, and bold in her steps, certain that everything was within reach.

She met her in the club room, on tour of the facilities. Held her hand a little too tightly, a little longer than needed. She met Vero on tour, only pausing to shake hands.

Tobin was no longer on the periphery, instead a constant in the way long distant friends could be. She listened as Christen rambled on about a girl with green eyes, with hair that fell in barely tamed waves. Laughed as Christen forgot to mention anything else about her new team. And Christen should remember more about Vero than conversations she had with Tobin, but it’s how she remembers it.

Like with Tobin, she and Vero fell into an easy friendship. They shifted into more within weeks. It was as carefree as most first love’s are. Strengthened by too many nights spent staying up just to know the shades of pink of sunrise. She first kissed her on a patio, with a whiskey tainted tongue. First loved her on a Sunday, curled beneath too many blankets for a bed. They loved carelessly, too restless to hide it. But Christen could never hold onto secrets, couldn’t keep the quiet moments, too big to make a sound, at bay.

Christen was twenty-three. She was an alternate on the national, jumping between Sweden and which ever hotel the coaches called home. Tobin had become a constant, always waiting with a smile, voicing raspy hello’s in hotel lobby’s. She always waited in invitation while others begged for Christen’s attention, never pushing for her explanations of “no thank you.” She painted nails, and turned coffee mugs so Christen knew they were meant for her. She listened with apt concentration as Christen spoke of a girl with green eyes, whose boldness she drank like whiskey. Straight from the bottle with little care to savour it.

Tobin was as constant in her life as long distance friends could be. She didn’t think of how she counted Sweden as the in-between. Of camps, family and everything real, she didn’t think about how she thought of Sweden as an in-between. Didn’t think of the shift words could cause, until she heard “I’m happy for you.” Couldn’t explain how the words settled soft against her sternum, fluttered under her ribs. 

Because there are a few things Christen knows for sure about herself. She is determined, she is patient and she has always loved Tobin Heath. It’s the in-betweens that stump her. That remind her to breathe, on a count of 4,3,2 release.

“So how did you know then?” Mal’s voice piques her interest, pulling back the haze of memory. 

“Know what?” She finds herself asking before reaching for her glass. 

“How did you know you loved Christen?” They’re words that hold too much meaning, that hint at something too big to fully explain.

“With a handshake, the first day I met her.” Christen blushes, thinks it’s too simple an answer.

“That’s a cop out if I ever heard one.” Emily yells, leaning in to listen, her hand over Kelley’s. 

“Yeah Heath, that’s a cop out.” She laughs at how she blushes at her teasing, watches how she sips her water to buy time. 

“You want to know all the moments I fell in love with her?” She puffs her cheeks, letting out a slow and measured sigh, “there’s maybe one thousand, eight hundred and thirty... four?” Her brow furrows in confusion before she shrugs it off like this is something that can be so casual. “Don’t hold me to the math, it could be more.”

“Thats just the number of times they’ve slept together.” Becky quips while pulling a chair to join them. 

“Gross.” Emily’s nose crinkles as she leans out of reach of a tossed napkin from Tobin. Christen notes the way Kelley squeezes her hand.  
  
“I don’t know. I’ve kind of always loved her...There was never really any one moment that made me, like, think it.” Christen hums her support, shifts her hand to her leg and waits to hear the rest. “I only know that there was a right moment to say it.”

“When was that?” On a Friday at noon, while Christen was singing as she brushed her hair. 

“I think I’ll keep that between us.” She winks at Christen, shifting the subject away and they both think on how lucky they are, to know all the moments they fell in love.  
  
“So Mal, is there a reason you’re asking this?” Kelley’s voice is softer than usual, tired yet curious. 

“Not really, I was just curious.” She shrugs it off, choosing to play with the discarded napkin instead.

“About Tobin and Christen’s love life? Why?” Emily’s quick to question her, her tone just edging on confusion. 

“Not their’s per say, they’re just... here.” It’s leaves the question of what about them could be so interesting to someone so young in the air.

“So are a lot of other people.” It’s muttered through a sudden grimace, with a side ways glance toward Kelley.

“They’re the only ones in a relationship.”

“Guess mine or yours don’t count Kell’s.” Emily shifts uneasily, taking her hand off of Kelley’s to reach for her phone. 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Mal squeaks out, eyes wide in sudden realization that yes, both Becky and Kelley are in relationships. And Christen thinks she prefers not to hold onto secrets, would rather bare the truth than keep it in.

“If they don’t count, then what do you say we head to the room Broon? We can share a pint of ice cream and sob about how loveless we are.” Kelley sits up to cross her legs away from Emily. 

Avoids any acknowledgment of the distance they’ve suddenly placed between themselves. 

“I didn’t mean it like that! You weren’t here when I asked and I didn’t think- I didn’t think you were there yet with-“ she points between the two, pausing at the look Emily sends her.

“How did you mean it Mal?” So Christen takes pity, offers a way for you to explain.

“Yeah Mal, how did you mean it?” It’s the way in which she says it, her tone too even and measured as Emily just peeks up from her phone.

“Ok Broon wasn’t here when I asked.”

“Is that really important to know?” Tobin leans over, breath tickling Christen’s ear as she keeps her voice just loud enough that Becky huffs in amusement at her words.

“Yes! It is, because I just wanted to know.”  
She sighs out in frustration, pausing to just stare at Tobin and Christen before looking to her hands. “I wanted to know how they knew it would be forever.”

“Well that’s not fair, they’ve known from their first handshake.” Hotel staff suddenly appear with a carafe of hot coffee and a single mug. “Hi, that’s for me. Thank you so much.” 

The waiter just nods placing it in front of her, purposely avoiding eye contact with any of them. Treading into the occupied territory of the hotel. 

“Broon! How the hell did you get them to make you coffee?” Ashlyn yells from across the room, her arm around Ali, their table more rambunctious and crowded. 

“I asked nicely.” She adds milk with the slightest of hand movements, focused on getting the right colour.

“Yeah well so did I and they just gave me a map to the nearest Starbucks.” Rose yells back, and their table erupts into a chorus of laughter. 

Christen doesn’t pay attention to Rose lunging after Lindsay, or the playful banter as they wrestle with the room cheering them on. No Christen watches Kelley through her lashes, afraid to stare directly. She watches the way her mouth curls in the corners, like it can’t quite let go of a smile. She watches how she traces the lines of Emily’s jaw, her cheekbones, and the eagerness pouring from her eyes to join in on the fight. 

Christen’s never been good at keeping secrets, has hated them with all her worth. Though, not long enough ago, they were all she knew. Had found the things built on them too fragile, and quick to crumble. So she turns her attention to Tobin, tries to ignore the way Kelley gently pushes Emily to stand, to join the ruckus and riot. 

“Hi.” Christen loves that she knows Tobin’s mouth, the softness of her lips and how she tastes like the ocean just warmed enough for comfort. 

“Hi... I love you.” Christen loves the way Tobin forms those words, how they settle warm in her chest. She loves the way she can make Tobin smile when she says.

“I love you more.” 

“-and on that note, Mal you never answered the question.” Kelley returns to them, finger pointed accusingly at them as she stares at Mal. “What is your sick fascination with their whole overly sweet thing?”

“It’s not a fascination! It was just a question.” Mal answers with a resolve to the fact they won’t let her question go.

“A question you still haven’t asked me.” Becky settles back into her chair, happily sipping her coffee. 

“Ok yeah, when did you know you were in love with Zola? Like when did you know that this he was the one, that it’d be forever?”

Forever. It’s hits them each individually, in so many different ways. Causes Christen’s mind to race with thoughts of quiet moments with Tobin, and triggers thoughts of someone else. Someone she knew wouldn’t last. 

“That is a big question.” Becky only pauses between sips to say. Tobin shifts and settles further into her seat, arm making its way to the back of Christen’s chair. All of them avoiding Kelley as she tenses in her own. “I guess I never thought about that.” 

The words shift something in the air, hits Christen’s sternum soft and flutter under her ribs. Makes her think of being 24, when she last remembers feeling this. Feeling like something she couldn’t quite put her finger on had changed In her. It came in crashing waves then, slowly building to a breaking point not much later. She shouldn’t remember Vero through conversations with Tobin, but she does.

Winter came soft but fast in Tyresö, and she sat witness to two teammates falling into an easy love that didn’t seem breakable. Though it’s journey just truly began, she knew that Ashlyn and Ali were something unbreakable. They had played through the indecision, called for time outs and time away. But when they came to Tyresö that winter and settled into themselves she knew they were something to admire. 

She thought of how happy she was, being loved by someone so bold and brash. She drank whiskey from the bottle and waited to see the different shades of pink as the sun rose. But something was shifting in her, something that made the nights too long, the sunrises too cold and the whiskey burn. Vero was bold in her actions, loud with her affection. She smoked cigarettes in secret, kissed her with ash on her tongue. And it shouldn’t have been a secret, how she loved her so carelessly while thinking of quiet moments too big to make a sound. 

She remembers listening to Tobin talk about a girl who started to sang in French but always ended in Spanish. She listened to her turn down invitations for adventure, and couches for the off season. Saw her run to return phone calls and texts. Return over and over to a city she felt could be home. Christen was a constant in Tobin’s life, as much as a long distant friend could be. But there was a shift in her that made her catalogue how Tobin’s voice would hit her sternum soft like being wrapped up in a hug. 

And suddenly Sweden felt like the in-between of something old and something new. Felt herself growing, not out of love, but into someone she needed to be. She can’t explain how it felt, to keep a secret so long. could never define how the moments with Vero seemed too loud, too brash, so bold. How she loved every minute, stopped counting her breaths. Didn’t pause to notice how Vero seemed only to be at her finger tips, with Tobin on the periphery. 

“You know for me.” She hadn’t excepted to voice it, didn’t think they would hear her. “I knew it wasn’t forever when I realized the moments with the person mattered more to me than the person I was with.” They look to her, surprise etching deep into their brows before settling into the corners of their eyes. And it’s the hand on her back, fingers pressing firm but gently, that encourage her to continue. “With Vero, I was so in love with the idea of her. In love with how she made me feel, like I was bold. But it always felt too loud. never quite right, like it could’ve been anyone. Like she was an in-between of something more.” 

“Whoa... that’s deep.” Lindsay stumbles to the table, effectively breaking the trance they find themselves in. “What’re you guys talking about that has Christen spitting wisdom like that?”

“Nothing.” Mal is quick to ignore them, rush to something that can end this conversation. “Who won?”

“Rose did, but only because Sonny and Sam helped her. You want to go to Starbucks with us?” She’s up in a flash, waving a good bye like the night hadn’t turned so heavy as to weigh them all down.

“Yes! I need a coffee before I call Danny.” 

She’s tackled into a strange sort of hug by Rose and Sam at the door. Both chattering over her, boasting of their win. Christen takes note of how Emily seems to pause, peering towards them in a sort of invitation, before turning to follow the crowd out. 

“Well that was weird.” Becky turns to fill her cup, stopping midway before pushing it towards them. “She’s not fighting with Danny is she?

“Not that I know of.” Tobin’s voice is thick, like she has to force the words out. “But I can’t say I’m sorry the interrogation is over. Think I can steal a cup?”

“Go for it. You want some Kell?” She seems to be lost in a daze, sluggish in her response. 

“Naw I’m good.” She looks over to the door, before shaking herself into action. “I promised Alex and Allie I’d watch a movie with them. Catch you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll be gaming with Alyssa so you might beat me back to the room.” She nods while stepping away, waving good night to the people still in the room. “Speaking of which, I should go if we want to play more than one mission. You joining?”

“Naw, I’m going to hang back with Chris tonight,” she glances over to confirm,” maybe go for walk.”

“Ok, well have fun you two.” They move to gather phones and belongings. She settles her hand on Christen’s arm softly. “Don’t let Mal get to you, she’s just weird tonight.”

She smiles as warmly as she can, trying her best to let it show that even in her thoughts of someone else, she’s okay. 

“Goodnight Becky.” They walk hand in hand through to the lobby, both reaching for the door before breaking out in nervous laughter. “I really love you, you know.”

“I know.” Christen first kissed Tobin in a hotel lobby in Seattle, in the middle of the night with the air smelling like rain. “I really love you too.”

They walk at a languid pace, arms swinging between them. Pausing to stare into shop windows and share kisses in alley ways. cautious to keep away from prying eyes. Christen thinks back, in little pieces and clips, to when they first spoke of forever. How it felt like everything clicked into place, how it hurt to know that through every event that has lead to now, it was out of place. Christen has always known she loved Tobin Heath. She’s always known she was determined and patient. She always knew she’d love her, she just had to wait for the right time to tell her.

When they first talked of forever, dared to think of it, Christen had just turned 25. She was newly single, fast becoming a fixture on the team, and restless for life to start. She was a constant in Tobin’s life, slowly shifting to something new. She listened to arguments half yelled, witnessed missed calls and promises that maybe if Tobin tried harder she could settle down. She offered to learn how to play video games in silences too tense to break. Brought coffee in paper cups, left them on night stands and dressers so Tobin knew they were for her. 

She thinks back to a night in Boca Raton, when sunrise came too soon and she sipped whiskey from a glass. They were 25 and waiting for life to start. Something had shifted in them, a new restlessness taking place. If Christen was asked how they knew about forever, she’d tell them that she’s not very good at keeping secrets. 

She had spent the day watching Tobin, standing just on the periphery. Noted the weight that seemed to slow her steps, and rob her attention even from the game. She’ll tell you how she stole a bottle of aged whiskey half drank, and spent an evening in silence waiting for the break. Tobin had been quiet, she played with the sand at her feet and Christen counted the waves. 

“Why’d you break up with Vero?” It was the last thing Christen was expecting to be asked. 

And if anyone else had asked, she would’ve cowered away. But because it was Tobin, she took her time to think, noticed the way she breathed on a count of 4,3,2 release. 

“I didn’t love her the same way.” She pauses to note the way Tobin’s baby fine hair curls under her hat. Traces her jaws, her cheeks, her throat. Notes the differences that seem so familiar, even in age. 

“Did you stop... loving her?” Her voice was thin and if Christen was asked to explain it, put it into words. She’d tell you it hit her sternum like thunder sounds, sudden and booming, rumbling out under her ribs. 

“No.” That draws her attention, causes sand to slip through her fingers web. “I just didn’t love her back in the same way.”

Christen sipped whiskey from a glass while she waited for sunrise, in a moment too big to ignore. 

“I still love her.” It’s a smile she didn’t want to make, but hearing those words even if meant for some one else, hit her soft in the sternum, fluttered under her ribs.

“Then you’ll make it last.” She had wanted to reach out, be something solid for her to hold. Instead she cowered in wait, shivered as she turned away and counted waves on a rhythm of 4,3,2, release. 

“I don’t think I’m meant for her forever,” she watches her shift and stretch her feet into the sand out of the corner of her eye. 

“Who do you think is, if not you?” Christen wants to say something different, turn them away from such heavy topics. 

Instead she sips whiskey from a glass, pauses in reach of the bottle as Tobin holds her own glass out. She fills them both, thinks of cigarette ash and how she never liked the burn. 

“I don’t know.” Her voice is soft but not warm, hinting towards something of defeat.

“and who is it that you want to be with...” she couldn’t tell you even now why she said it.

“Forever?” But she can tell you she drank whiskey on the beach.

“Yeah, forever.” And maybe that was what made her brave. “Who do you think you could be with forever?”

For there are few things Christen knows she’s not, she’s not vapid, or mean. She’s not good with remembering the little moments, more prone to facts and solid things. But most of all, she’s not brave. 

“You know I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it that hard.” She says it into her glass, staring out to the water, and swallows her whiskey deep.

“Not even with her?” She doesn’t know where it comes from, these words that hint at something secret. 

Tobin just shakes her head, continues to look over the water like she’s searching for some end to its waves, some break in its thrashing. 

“All I’ve figured out, all that I have really focused on,” she’s slow and deliberate in her words, taking measured steps in choosing them. “At the most random and inopportune times,” and Christen can feel it, something coming, too big, too fast. “Is that I don’t ever want to be without you.” 

“Tobin… what does that mean?” She doesn’t answer, just sits staring at some point in the water like she’s found it. Like she’s found the break. “Do you want to be with me?” 

And Christen can remember this moment with crystal clarity. How Tobin’s eyes snapped to her attention, held answers to questions she’s never asked.

“Any chance I can get and in any way you’ll have me.” 

They didn’t start in yearning, there were no sudden stops or ends. They grew together; loved from the first handshake. But the thing about them, when asked how they knew. 

“You’re with… someone.” Was that there was a right moment to say it.

“Not completely,” and Christen will tell you, “not in the way I want to be.” 

She’s always loved Tobin Heath.

“It’s not the right time for us Tobin.” She just wasn’t always aware of it.

“But there will be, right?” And the thing that makes her blush, is when Tobin will tell you. “There will be a right time?” She knew from the first handshake. 

“Yeah.” She can’t define it, but that’s the moment she knew. 

“You promise?” She’s always loved Tobin.

“Yeah I promise Tobin,” first as a friend. “I promise there will be a right time.”  
  
It’s the in-between parts, where it grew, that stump her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I only had this idea of Tobin meticulously painting Christen’s nails for whatever reason and it’s somehow grown into this. I can’t say I’ll post daily, but it seems to be writing itself.


	4. Tobin will tell you if you asked...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobin will tell you her faith has been tested. 
> 
> They’d tell you she’s fearless, ferocious in her appetite and unshakable.
> 
> Tobin will tell you lessons are learned in the in-between of being too young to set roots so deep, and knowing how to build a home.

Tobin Heath bought a bed in Portland recently, marking her first step in calling it home.

If asked about it, she’ll tell you her faith has been tested, her choices doubted. She’ll tell you she takes measured steps towards her decisions, weighing her rights and her wrongs. That she’s loved and she’s loved so intensely, from city lights to open fields. She’ll tell you she loved her from the moment it started, tell you how her faith had been tested. 

She didn’t stay in Paris to make it last, never thought about her reasons for fear she’d doubt them. She’ll tell you her faith had been tested, but the lesson learned was how to build a home. She’ll tell you she needs it all, from sirens to voices, car horns and shouts. She needs the buzz of the city, the hum of the crowds, and Paris had it all. She’ll tell you that it took and took and took from her, but she’ll never regret it. From things to time, it took so much, but she’ll never regret loving so deep. But her faith had been tested, and the lessons she learned were everything she needed to know on how to build a home. 

She wandered before, a nomad and free, too careless to stay, and Paris held promise of lessons to learn. She’ll tell you she’d been tested, broken and defeated. She’ll tell you she found them, the blocks on which to build a foundation. She’ll tell you it started on an acre of grass, with tentative lines and a smile so sad. She’ll tell you she knew from that moment on, that lessons are learned in the search for home.

She’ll tell you she didn’t know what they were saying, but that they shared the game. Learned to communicate with more than words, and found that love really knew no boundaries at all. And her love had been tested, in missed calls and through distance, while endlessly restless. And she’ll tell you the difference between obligation and devotion. That there were always friends on the periphery, close in the way long distant friends could be. She’ll tell you the difference, what they taught her, between obligation and devotion. 

Tobin wasn’t one defined as calm per say, it was too complicated a time to really hold her down in such a way. She was languid in her actions, preferred to walk barefoot and held on to things too carelessly. She’ll tell you how her faith had been tested, shaken to its core, by the act of a handshake out of place and time.

She was too young to know how to live alone, grew up in conference rooms and hotel beds. That friends of hers shy away when she says she knew she’d know them forever from their first hello. And they’d tell you how she’s fearless, ferocious in her appetite and unshakable. But Tobin’ll will tell you she was too scared to live alone, too young to set roots too deep. 

She’ll tell you how she was sucker punched in the sternum by eyes too green, or too grey, for her to decide. She will tell you how it felt as if there was something solid in her touch. How she tread careful, in measured steps, to learn how to breathe again, on a beat of 4,3,2 release. 

Tobin will tell you how she knows she’ll know you forever from the first hello, but of words like “good game?” She might admit it’s too odd a sensation, too bold a thought, that maybe she’d meet her again. A test of faith in the sense that she was too young to set roots that deep, too confused to love unknown. 

So she wandered in the search of home. Found it scattered in smiles, and moments re-meeting people unknown. She rested on couches and floors, ran from flights delayed to waiting cabs. Explored everything to find a moment too deep, that shook her to her core and tested her faith. Learned the difference between obligation and devotion. 

And the blocks she found to build a foundation, were cracked and worn from crashing waves of emotion. So she learned to surf, found laughter in the silence and lessons learned. And if she was asked, when she knew she’d love her, she’d say it was with a handshake that tested her faith. That the words “good game” could light the path to the love of home. 

But Tobin is impatient, it’s a flaw that runs deep. Too ferocious in her appetite to know it all, everything. But she’ll tell you she was too scared to live alone, too young to set roots that deep. So she ran, from couches to floors, restless and free. She needed the buzz of city lights, the hum of the crowds, and Paris had it all. She weighed her rights and her wrongs, thought that maybe loving her was a decision to be doubted. But loving Shirley was a lesson learned on how to build a home.

And it was with the words, “I didn’t love her the same way back,” that sucker punched her in the sternum. Shook her to her core and tested her faith. For she knew from their first hello, on either side of Kelley O’Hara, that she knew she’d know her forever. That it wasn’t out of obligation to learn how to track a ball, only to roll it back. Was a form of devotion, to sit so still with a coffee turned so she knew it was for her. 

She’ll explain how it felt like home to hear of a girl with greens eyes and hair that fell in barely tamed waves. How deeply she loved when she said “I’m happy for you.” And she’ll tell you she’s impatient, how it’s a flaw that runs deep but she thought she’d liken to learn how when promised “there will be a right time.”

So she prayed in practices, with the ball at her feet, fought through it in games on open fields and stood on the periphery of what home could be. Her choices should be doubted, but she made her decisions in measured steps, weighed her wrongs and her rights. Tested her faith by playing wife to someone only temporary. 

She’ll tell you how she needed Portland, with its buzz from city lights, hum from the crowds, the sounds of sirens and yells. That she didn’t stay to make it last, because lessons were learned on how to build a home, and try as she might she didn’t love Shirley in the same way. 

It was too chaotic with its roots too deep, and she needed to know what it meant to live alone. Found her answers in moments too big to make a sound. In the silence of coffee cups turned so she knew they were for her. Counted her breath’s on a beat of 4,3,2 release, while she painted the shades of pink from sunrises with poorly named nail polish. 

She’ll tell you she found that she hated the morning, that it tested her patience. but she gladly woke up early to know the feeling of hello in that moment just before one is fully awake. And when they ask her when she knew, she’ll tell them it was with a handshake that tested her faith. For Tobin’s impatient, too ferocious in her appetite to know everything, everything about her. And she was too young to live alone, had grown up in conference rooms and hotel beds, knew nothing of home. She was too scared to set roots that deep. But she wandered, careless and free, and learned lessons on how to build a home.

And maybe Christen always knew that she loved her first as a friend. Always knew that they had grown into love, in conference rooms and hotel beds. But Tobin will tell you, she knew she was too young to live alone, too scared to set roots that deep to build a home. But with the words “there will be a right time,” she found herself to be too impatient. And maybe her decisions should be doubted, for she loved Shirley, just not in the same way. 

Maybe it’s because Portland is land locked, and her foundation is cracked, that she finds the want to build a home. Maybe it was the test of missed calls and distance, that taught her to be calm. Calm enough to sit in the silence of moments too big to make a sound. Maybe it was the devotion to learn how to track long balls only to roll them back, that made her want to set roots no matter how deep. 

And she’ll admit she hated the defeat to love someone not enough to want to do it all for her but someone else. She’ll tell you she hates that the wrongs out weighed the rights, but it never felt the same as loving someone too big to make a sound. That the moments were too many, and they made her inpatient, and that all she wanted was to set roots no matter how deep so she could build her a home. 

She’ll tell you she cried until the sunrise came in different shades of pink. Learned to love the moment when she was just on this side of being fully awake. Drowned her sorrow in glasses of whiskey while learning the lines of her face, and that her eyes were green not grey. She’ll wax poetic, choose her words with measured steps, and stay forever if it meant she was home. 

it was in Portland, with its buzz from the city lights and sound of sirens, that she knew the right time to say “I love you.” 

They had decided, both weighing the wrongs and rights, to test their patience. Gave time for the crashing wave of emotions to break. Allowed their flaws, and the cracks left from loving people not enough to build a home with, to heal. Learned of a new restlessness for life to start. Refocused on a game they both loved. learned how it knew no boundaries, and how it no longer defined everything about them. 

They won a World Cup with friends they swore they’d know forever. Hated to learn the lesson as their faiths were tested when they said good bye. Found moments alone, and learned more than the lines of each other’s faces. She learned that Christen’s lips were soft in Seattle, that she tasted of chocolate and salt. How she preferred to sip whiskey from glasses rather than bottles because of a girl who loved too loud, too boldly. She learned to paint more than finger nails, and that coffee cups left on nightstands were meant for her. 

It was in Portland she learned of the right time to say “I love you.” 

She invited her to stay, waited calmly for her answer. Held her hand tightly as they explored coffee shops, store fronts and bought a bed all their own. She loved her in the way she wanted, completely and fearlessly, without doubt. Found she was patient and calm, all restlessness gone. And she’ll tell you that friendship was the foundation in which she built a home, that love was it’s roots, and it’s wall the bones of her ribs. 

She’ll tell you that they ate off the same plate, drank from a glass of whiskey and stayed up to watch the sunrise. Learned how the sky turned orange from pink. That they counted the others breath on a beat of 4,3,2 release, as they feel asleep in a bed of their own. She’ll tell you it was in the moment just before being fully awake that she found the right time to say “I love you,” at noon on a Friday. 

She’ll wax poetic about how devotion is not defined by distance. That she spent a life time learning how to run from flights delayed to waiting cabs, just so she can watch how Christen learned to love the game again. She’ll tell you everything, if you ever asked. She’ll tell you that sometimes the words “good game” could light the path home by saying “she knew from the first handshake.” That patience is learned in the in-between of being too young to set roots so deep and learning how to build a home, by saying. “It just took me awhile to find the right time to say it.” 

But she likes to think that you wouldn’t ask. because she feels so lucky sharing the secret of all the moments they fell in love with only her. But Tobin will tell you how she found a home.


	5. Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the quiet moments with Tobin Heath that surprise her, like everything she does, it’s with passion.
> 
> And it’s tiring to pretend, when no one outright asks them, how long they’ve been together. 
> 
> But they’ll tell you, there were no sudden starts or yearning ends. The highs were high and the lows so very deep, but they learned how to rebuild a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa... What a journey.

It’s the quiet moments with Tobin Heath that surprise her, like everything she does, it’s with passion. So roses pedals, candles and baths with champagne are no secret to celebrate. And they’ve earned this right to keep secret, what moments they share, that outline the path they found to home. And it’s tiring to pretend, when no one outright asks, how long they’ve been together. 

They’d tell them they didn’t mean to fall in love, that it grew with them in conference rooms and hotel beds. They’d tell you that there were no sudden stops or yearning ends. That the highs were high and the lows so very deep. That it happened in too many moments to list, and that they needed to learn on how to build a home. 

Tobin will say her faith had been tested, and lessons were learned. Christen will wax poetic that friendship built in the moments too big to make a sound build houses so strong. They’ll keep to themselves what little they can, too restless to hide it. And people will know through the look in their eyes, the stride of their steps. the way they’ve learned to run from delayed flights to waiting cabs, just to watch the other play. 

They’d tell you how they’re not very good at keeping secrets. How they feel too consuming, zapping what energy they have. But they’ll watch from the periphery how the others seem to dance out of step. They’ll watch from the periphery as others say I do. And they’ll count their blessings, no matter how long the list seems to be. 

They’d tell you about Seattle, and walking in the rain. That they waited for the break to settle, over coffee cups placed in wait. Spoke over chess boards, and plane rides about lessons learned and what it would look like to build a home. But the lows were so very deep, and they will say that they are blinding. 

They would tell you how the phone rang and with sobs caught between breath’s of 4,3,2 release, found out just how very deep lows can be. And it’s the teammates that are closer to family than friends, that teach you the difference between devotion and obligation. 

Christen will tell you she cried until the sun rose, forgot to drink whiskey from the glass and that she’s never cared for the burn of cigarettes. Tobin will tell you her faith had been tested, her decisions doubted, while holding her hand. For how could she fail to learn the lesson of how to be her home when the foundation cracks. 

But its in the intimate moments re-meeting people unknown that can rebuild a home. And Tobin will stand up to wax poetic about the arms that hugged her first, with eyes magnetic as they first said hello. And she stood up to tell you she knew that she’d know her forever, but didn’t stop to pay attention to how short forever could be. Even though Tobin has never liked big speeches, never cared to be in the spotlight, with the expectations too great for her words to be strong.

But in sunrises and walks in the rain, they find a way out of valleys so deep, and feelings so low. They find a way to pray, with the ball at their feet, as a test of patience in learning how to rebuild a home. They learn how to pause to notice those words that hit soft against their sternums, flutter under their ribs. And that friends teach devotion, in placed coffee cups and reaching over distances to hug first. They whisper devotion in nights alone, under starlight and field lights, with measured steps out of valleys so low. 

And maybe their story isn’t about beginnings and ends. Maybe it’s told in the in-between of being too young to set roots so deep and re-building a home. Maybe it’s tested as it shakes them to their cores when people on the periphery leave them all alone. But it’s path is lighted by candle lights and street lamps, in city’s that buzz, and crowds that hum. Maybe it’s found in Portland and L.A, with Paris forgotten and Sweden just a delay. 

But Tobin will tell you that she weighed her wrongs and her rights in the decisions she’s made. She’ll tell you that she learned to be patient in the time it takes to say “I love you.” 

And Christen wakes first to sunlight held at bay, fights to stay in the moment just before being fully awake. maybe it’s in one of those rare moments in her life, when she’s just excited enough to step forward, just excited enough to say. “Marry me.” 

And it’s noon at in L.A, on a Tuesday at the end of December she hopes she’ll remember. She wants so desperately to remember, how the baby fines have grown. All the lines of her face and the way they have aged.That her love for her is solid, a simple fact. She wants to remember how she answers, with the ways in which she knows her mouth. Her lips soft, tasting of the ocean just warmed enough to comfort. 

And it’s the little things she prone to forget. Like the sighs and fingers that press into her back. How it starts out slow, then sudden, like the way thunder sounds, rumbling out from under rib cages. It’s the little things she’s prone to forget, like her sigh of resonation when they pull back.

How heated she blushes, at the tilt of her head, her brow pulled down in confusion. “You’re supposed to let me ask that.” 

They didn’t start in yearning, there were no sudden starts or ends. It grew in conference rooms and hotel beds, while counting breath’s on a rhythm of 4,3,2 release. 

“What if you never do?” Shes grown impatient waiting for life to begin. “Marry me.”

And it’s true, she promised to let her be the one to ask. Promised when caught in a downpour, at too late an hour to be out, in the city of Seattle. After a night of planning what a home could look like. But she’s more prone to remember solid facts, and what she remembers most was the promise they’d marry. When things had settled, when they had no more breaks to heal, and forever was certain. 

“I’ll marry you.” And she likes that she knows the comfort of her kiss. “I marry you,” and the ring is sudden, slipping solid on her finger. 

“You had a ring.” She hates how she smiles, like it’s never a choice when Tobin’s around. “You little shit.”

And she loves how she can make her laugh, with that smile that never leaves the corner of her lips. She loves her so solidly that it’s a fact. And she’ll say she knew, how she’s loved her forever. 

“Hey...” and the moment is soft, like her fingers in her hair. “I knew from the first handshake, remember?” How she tastes of the ocean just warmed enough to comfort. “Of course I had a ring, you were supposed to let me ask.”

“Maybe I’m impatient,” they’ve already taken their time. 

And she loves how it started slow, then sudden, like how thunder sounds. Rumbling out from under ribs cages they used to build a home. 

“Maybe I’m impatient too.” 

And it starts slow then sudden, under too many blankets for a bed all their own. It’s starts with fingers firm but gentle, that curl and grab. And if asked, she’ll let slip a hint, that they learned more than the lines of each other’s faces in a hotel bed in December in New Orleans. That it was a moment too big to not make a sound. She’ll tell you they’ve been together for four years on a day they keep secret, but is just shy of her thirty-second birthday. 

They’ll tell you about home in Portland, and trips to L.A. How they run from delayed flights to waiting cabs just to watch the other play. They’ll tell you by the look in their eyes, with confident strides, and hands that seek out to touch on open fields. They’ll tell you it all in little moments too big to make a sound. Dare you to count them, for Tobin’s not sure of the math. They’re not good at holding on to secrets, are too restless to care to hide them. 

Maybe they’re too overwhelming, too big to make a sound. But everyone who knows them will tell you they knew from their first handshake. that they had loved each other always, in anyway they allowed it, first in friendship, before growing into it. 

(Though if Tobin Heath admits it, she doesn’t think Kelley is the best reference to back it. Doesn’t think she knows enough yet. Thinks she’s still stuck in the in-between of learning. Learning all the lessons on how to build a home.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe I may be done with them... 
> 
> Like I said, I just wanted to write about Tobin painting her finger nails for whatever reason. 
> 
> (Thanks for tagging along, let me know if you got it, the hint of a sequel.)


End file.
